The Sensational Six watched via Glen’s live feed and Pat’s tattooed expansion. It ended with Shotgun’s raised sleeve, firing.
“Would he have killed him?” asked Ryan.
“No,” said Mick. “He wouldn’t do so just to make a point.”
“Shouldn’t we prepare?” said Nick.
“There’s none to be made, except one. Pat, when we face Shotgun’s men, I want you to remain hidden as long as possible. We’re evenly matched so, it’ll be up to you to tip the balance… except for me and Shotgun. I’m really going to need you there. Until then, we just wait until we’re contacted.”
Mick forbade them from training so that they’d remain rested. As day passed into late afternoon, Glen’s phone rang.
Glen listened. “You can ask him yourself.”
He handed Mick the phone.
“This is Shotgun. Meet us in the centennial gardens. And bring Politically Correct with you.”
“The authorities are going to be very reluctant to give him up.”
“Convince them, or the deal’s off.”
The call ended.
Mick handed the phone back. Glen received a text message a moment later.
“They monitored our call,” he said. “They’re sending Politically Correct over.”
Minutes after, they heard a car pull up in front of the house. Politically Correct walked between two soldiers with automatic rifles. The Sensational Six walked down the path to meet them.
“Here’s the cuffs key,” said one of the soldiers.
Glen accepted the item and slipped it into his pocket.
“You get to have this van too,” said the soldier. “It already has the GPS set for getting you to the park.”
“Thank you,” said Mick.
Nick bunched Politically Correct’s robes in one hand before throwing him inside the van. The rest of the Sensational Six climbed inside. Mick slid in behind the wheel and started the van, pulling from the curb and following the voice directions given on the GPS.
An hour later, buildings loomed on either side of the them, thrusting into the sky. The city remained eerily quiet. Mick slowed down the van when he noted the first of the park’s trees.
“Where do we park?” Mick said to himself.
“Anywhere you like,” said Glen.
Stopping the van in the middle of the street, the Sensational Six exited and wandered across the path and onto the grassy area.
“Where are we meant to meet them?” asked Ryan as they strayed further in.
“Just stop somewhere in the middle,” said Mick. “They’ll come to us.”
Soon after, shapes broke from the trees, becoming four walking figures. As the moonlight fell on them, Mick could make out individual features on Shotgun, Multibeast, Odin, and Grappler.
Nick pushed Politically Correct forward. Shotgun held up his hand in waiting until Glen tossed it to him. Without ceremony, he undid Politically Correct’s restraints.
“Where’s Javelin?” Mick asked.
Shotgun grinned, making no answer.
“Run for cover!” Mick shouted.
He barely moved when a round zipped into the ground by his feet. Pat already scanned the rooftops for a possible vantage point through tattooed binoculars.
“He’s up there,” he said, pointing.
Nick uprooted a tree and flung it at the other five advancing villains. Shotgun raised both arms and blasted the trunk, shattering its centre into fine debris. Mick had already ducked behind a statue’s base.
“Nick, you’ve got to even up the odds. Get up on the roof and stop Javelin.”
The stocky man sprinted off. Grappler bounded from the trees to meet him, only to receive a backhander, sending him tumbling four metres away.